Lost, Without a Doubt
by TheVerbalThing ComesAndGoes
Summary: Rory, in the middle of an argument, helps Lorelai realize the mistake she made when she married Christopher. Now, if only she would admit it. Post "French Twist".
1. Will You Still Be My Daughter?

Lost, Without a Doubt

Summary: Rory, in the middle of an argument, helps Lorelai realize her mistake. If only she would admit it.

Setting: Post "_French Twist_".

Disclaimer: If only it were mine…

* * *

"What?"

The expression on Rory's face has her worried. Lorelai has seen this face before, many times in fact: when Rory first found about Jess and Shane (and for the duration of that month long relationship); when she broke up with Dean for the first time; when Lorelai told her just how she felt about Rory getting together with Dean for the _third _time. It's her Emily Face, in all its pinched up glory.

"Your father and I got married," Lorelai repeats slowly, though the smile on her face is a lot less secure and a lot more forced than it was the first time, and the happy, "surprise" tone her voice adopted is gone completely. "We went to this little church in Paris..."

Rory's mouth is hanging open just slightly and a look at her watch tells Lorelai it's been officially two minutes since she'd last blinked.

"Rory?"

Another minute drags slowly by, and Lorelai becomes painfully aware of the silence growing between them. "Could you say something? Please? You're kinda freaking me out here, hon." She tries to laugh it off but it comes out sounding too high-pitched, off kilter.

"_You're_ freaking out? I can't believe you—I mean you only _just—"_ She shakes her head and now, suddenly, it seems that Rory can't _stop_ blinking. She stands up and paces the room while Lorelai watches her angry movements and tries to understand why she's so upset. Isn't this what every kid wants? For their parents to be together and to be a family?

Though, if she's honest, Rory has never been like every other kid. _And try as my mother might, Christopher has never really been a part of our family. More like a distant relative you only see at reunions. _

Lorelai shakes her head, twisting the wedding band on her finger. She did a good thing. This was what she needed. She bites her bottom lip. _No, not needed. Wanted. _She definitely wanted this to happen. Definitely.

Didn't she?

The pacing stops, but the anger in Rory's eyes has not dissipated. "What about Luke?"

Lorelai flinches at the mention of his name, an instinctive and almost involuntary reflex. What the hell is Rory thinking bringing up _Luke_, now? For the past couple of months, Lorelai thought she'd made it pretty clear that bringing up Luke, talking about Luke, mentioning anything in relation to Luke, was _not_ okay. That Rory knew she wasn't ready yet to talk about him as though he didn't have such a meaningful place in her life. Apparently she'd been wrong. "What _about _Luke?"

"I mean, I thought this thing with you and Dad— you said it wasn't too serious. You said you were taking your time which I still find kind of funny since you weren't exactly taking things slow when you slept with him right after you broke up with Luke—"

"Hey!" she snaps. But Rory, as per usual, is persistent.

"He's the _rebound,_ mom! You don't _marry_ the rebound! Especially when you're not even over the guy you're rebounding from!"

"I _am _over Luke!"

"Really? One minute you're crying _hysterically _about something he said in a supermarket and the next minute you're in Paris getting married, completely over Luke? Does the Flash know about you, because that was awfully quick!"

"He didn't _want_ to marry me!" Lorelai blurts. Now that it's out, she knows there's no way that she'll be able to stop herself from spewing out the real reason why she didn't hesitate to say yes to Chris' proposal. "I wanted to marry him _so badly_ but he wouldn't let me in! He shut me out and he said it, he told _me _that we weren't meant to be! But Chris was there for once in the 37 years that I've known him—finally acting his age, finally wanting to be a solid part of your life and he wanted _me_. So when your dad proposed, yeah I jumped on the opportunity because I'd rather be with him than pining away for the rest of my life over someone who doesn't want to be with me!" Lorelai bites down on the inside of her cheek, trying to keep the tears from falling down her face but that only seemed to serve as an impetus to the process.

Rory's face falls and sympathy crosses her features. The anger's still there, but it has lessened considerably. "Mom…"

She ignores Rory's outstretched arm, stands, and wipes the tears from her face, angrily. "You know what, Rory, I didn't come here for your approval. I just wanted you to know because you're my daughter and since you weren't there to actually see me get married I thought you'd want to know. And, well, now you know, so..."

"Mom—"

"I have to go." She swallows the lump in her throat but it does nothing to eliminate the soreness she feels. _Why did she have to bring up Luke? _Her vision still blurred by her tears, she tries to figure out why she hasn't left yet. _Keys. Need to find my keys. _

"Mom."

"What?" she snaps. "Rory, I don't want to talk about this anymore!" _Just let me find my keys so I can leave._

Rory says nothing, simply hands over Lorelai's car keys. Her eyebrows are furrowed together, her mouth turned down into a disapproving frown.

"I'll see you later."

She leaves without a look back and, even through her blurred vision, makes it successfully to her car. Her mind barely registers the ride back to Stars Hollow until she finds herself in front of _Luke's_, unable to drive past.

He's standing behind the counter, counting receipts like she'd seen him do so many times before only now, obviously, things were different. She couldn't just go in there and interrupt him, say something witty to put a smile on his face. Or just say nothing (a rare occurrence until recently) and simply enjoy being there, with him.

And then, she stops fighting because she_ physically _just can't hold it in anymore.

So, with nothing left to do, she lays her head on her steering wheel and cries.


	2. On the Contrary, Misery Despises Company

Lost, Without a Doubt

Summary: Rory, in the middle of an argument, helps Lorelai realize her mistake. If only she would admit it. Post "French Twist".

Disclaimer: Sooo many things would be different if I owned this. Sadly, I do not. pouts

I don't think Lorelai ever named her jeep but in this particular chapter, it's Casey, the horse from the _Mask of Zorro_.

Author's Note: So, I've been meaning to post this chapter for like a month actually longer than that. My bad. School, family and life in general kinda got in the way. Plus I haven't been able to get really happy about this chapter, and I'm still not. But I'm picky and usually end up hating what I write if I look at it too long, so I give it to you. I hope it's not as bad as I think it is. If it is tell me (nicely, I'm delicate) and I'll try to fix it.

Okay, enough with the excuses. Enjoy!

* * *

Amazingly, Lorelai feels no release, no significant difference once she's stopped crying—although, oddly enough, a part of her isn't surprised by the lack of change. If anything Lorelai only feels worse; she's exhausted and the deadening yet heavy sensation in her stomach only increases in its intensity, making her feel sick.

She's already tired of crying. She shouldn't _be _crying- not over Luke, not anymore. She should be focusing on and thinking about her marriage, on being a newlywed and how happy she is with Christopher. And she would be, she thinks, if only Rory hadn't mentioned Luke. Surprisingly, Lorelai's been able to be pretty successful at avoiding him and all thoughts of him. It just takes self control, a new morning ritual, and a shopping trip to _Kohl's_ (new furniture), _Nordstrom's_ (new clothes that don't remind her of anything to do with him) and _Bed, Bath & Beyond_ (new sheets that don't smell like him).

She lifts her head from the steering wheel. Her hands shake as she tries to put the keys into the ignition but as her luck would have it, the car won't start. Lorelai cuts off a sob halfway through. Sniffling, she tries again. Nothing. She pauses, takes a breath and puts the key in the ignition again, trying to keep the sniffles from escalating and to regulate her suddenly erratic breathing, but it won't even turn over. This can't be it for old Casey. First Rory, and now her formerly trustworthy and dependable jeep. Is there nothing she can rely on?

"Lorelai?" She flinches, and turns to face the voice that addressed her, even though she has a fairly good idea who it is.

Though that doesn't mean she still isn't a little caught off guard. "Luke?"

He's standing in front of her open door, his hands in his pockets fidgets, kicks at the ground with the toe of his boot and squints at her. "…Are you okay?"

_Well, if I wasn't feeling crappy before… _She wonders why he's asking her this, why he's standing here, worrying about whether or not she's okay when, after what she did, he completely has every not to really give a shit. Of course, it _is_ Luke. Luke, who can still be concerned (she's not sure if she should call it caring) about her, even after their relationship ended (and the _way _that it ended).

Lorelai nods and rests her shaky hands on the steering wheel. She clears her throat, tries to have some semblance of normalcy, nonchalance. "I'm fine, I'm just, uh, sitting here, waiting…" She trails off. _Waiting for what? What are you waiting for?_

She doesn't need to finish as Luke's attention is taken by something else, something shiny, gold and ordinarily wouldn't be much to look at. Instinctively, she covers it with her other hand, but it's pointless. He's seen it.

She glances up, he looks away and, when he turns back his eyes are cold, shut off.

"So congratulations," he chokes out gruffly.

She sighs, but this time it doesn't make breathing any easier. The heavy, deadening feeling increases tenfold. "Luke, you don't have to—"

"I don't have to what— be cordial? Be civil? A decent human being?" He gestures wildly with his hands, almost hitting the car door. It would be comical if she wasn't so pissed by his comment.

"Oh, what, were you expecting an invitation?" she shoots back nastily.

"A little heads up might have been nice."

"I don't remember asking for your help, I never said I needed you to come over here and rescue me."

"Of course, because usually when a person is crying in a parked car, the natural reaction is, 'They'll stop eventually. Let's move on.'"

"While I appreciate the absolutely sincere concern, Luke," she spits out in a tone that couldn't be more of the polar opposite of appreciation, "but everything here is just fine."

"Clearly," Luke snaps. "If it makes you happy, next time I'll just keep walking, maybe even do a little dance when I go past your window."

"Great, I can't wait to see it," she bites. He stalks off, back to the diner, without a look back. _That went well. _

She doesn't blame him for being upset but honestly, a small part of her was convinced he wouldn't care, at least not the way he used to.

Lorelai looks down at the key she's been trying to force into the ignition, realizing the problem. It's her house key.

She hurriedly finds the right key and starts her car back up. The drive back to the house is over all too soon.

_The house, that house, a house, any old house, _her mind rambles on. She searches the dregs of her mind to try to remember when she stopped referring to it as _her _house, her home and not just a place of living where she sometimes sleeps (fitfully) and drinks (terrible) coffee. Although, she knows it's about more than the coffee, and, no matter how hard she tries Lorelai can't trick her mind into not thinking how when the remodeling started, it was _their _house (but of course that never happened) and it could never go back to just being _her _house, or anyone else's.

Christopher's rather obvious Volvo isn't parked in the driveway when she gets back. Lorelai absolutely abhors that thing and is glad, really, that she doesn't have to look at it right now. It doesn't really register in her mind that it not being here equals Chris not being here.

She sighs and it takes her a moment to realize it has nothing to do with how tired she is. Lorelai is only relieved and grateful that she doesn't have to have the "Why Auntie Lorelai is Now Step-Mommy Lorelai" talk with Gigi, or tell Chris that Rory is a lot more pissed about their elopement than they (he) thought she would be, or explaining to him her red-rimmed eyes and frazzled appearance. Though she's pretty certain that with a well placed joke and smile (as forced as they would be) his attention would be easily diverted.

She stares up at the house for a moment, then sighs heavily and walks up the porch and into the house.

Lorelai drops her keys on the table, and acknowledges Paul Anka with a halfhearted pat on the head, to which he responds with equal enthusiasm. She notices that the light on the answering machine is blinking. _Probably Rory, _she thinks but she makes no move towards it.

Right now, her attention is focused solely on getting up those stairs. She can't allow herself to divulge her thoughts in anything else. She needs to focus—one step at a time—so she doesn't think of her conversation (argument) with Rory, what she said and what it could have possibly meant.

_Of _course_ it _meant_ something, _a small voice in the back of her mind insists, but Lorelai shakes her head roughly, cutting off the thought completely.

"Not now," she whispers to herself. She is too exhausted, too drained to do this right now. She feels heavy, yet deflated, as if she's been lying at the bottom of a pool for half an hour and resurfaced too quickly.

She changes methodically into her pajamas, then lies across her bed and stares at the ceiling. She hears Rory's angered voice and sees Luke's disappointed face. Both are unwanted but unforgettable right now. She closes her eyes, squeezing them tight, and tries to make the images disappear.

She's not sure how, but she manages to drift into a light sleep. Sometime later she awakes to the sound of Christopher, coming carefully into the room. "Lore?"

She doesn't answer him. Letting him assume she's asleep is a safer bet. He shuffles about the room, opening drawers, tossing aside clothes, and makes his way towards the bed (_the bed, a bed, any bed_) in the dark.

He places his arm around her waist and she tenses up, but pretends she's moving in her sleep and rolls away from him.

He doesn't seem to notice the difference.

Lorelai wakes up alone, curled up on the edge of the bed. The alarm clock reads 8:30 but there is a smell of coffee in the air which makes it half worthwhile to get up. Besides that, she knows she'll drive herself crazy lying in bed all day, thinking about nothing and everything—all the things she cannot change.

_Can she?_

She takes a quick shower, and gets herself dressed, figuring it'll bide her some time before going downstairs.

Christopher is sitting at the kitchen table, reading the paper (not the Stars Hollow Gazette, of course) and drinking a cup of what she assumes is the terrible coffee he's known for making. _His taste buds must be seriously screwed up to actually enjoy drinking that. _

Still, though, Lorelai finds herself reaching for the (brand new) coffee pot and pours herself a cup before she changes her mind.

"Hey," Chris smiles at her from below his newspaper and somehow she manipulates her lips into doing the same. "Morning," she murmurs.

"So, you were already asleep when I got back from my mother's."

"Yeah, I must still be pretty jet-lagged…" Absentmindedly she stirs her coffee, takes a tentative sip, and holds back a grimace. They sit in silence for a while, until she hears Chris take a deep breath and ask:

"So, how'd it go with Rory?"

"Not so good." Lorelai leans against the counter, watching Chris' reaction. "She was upset, and understandably so."

He shrugs. "Well, she'll get over it eventually, right? Once she sees how good this is?"

Lorelai shakes her head. One of Christopher's problems: his tendency to oversimplify things. "No, Chris, it's not that simple. She's hurt that we did this, without considering her."

"_We're _the parents here, Lore. And Rory's twenty-two years old- it's not like she's a little kid who needs to be handled."

_As if you'd know how to handle her, _would have been her immediate response but she bites her tongue, not a first lately, and something she's grown used to. "There's more to it than that, Christopher. Regardless of how old she is, she's my kid and I got married and she wasn't there. You have to understand how hard that is for her."

Chris nods and scratches his head. She can tell that he actually has to _think _about this, how it's not so automatic for him to consider Rory's feelings— although Lorelai hadn't exactly done a great job of that herself.

"Yeah, I guess I can understand that."

"Good." She nods, works up to that smile again.

He kisses her on the cheek and she feels her stomach clench. She swallows back the lump in her throat and looks down at the floor, not really willing to look him in the eyes. She sets her mug on the counter and jerks her thumb towards the door. "I'm going to, um, go to the inn."

"Why?"

"Well, with all the excitement yesterday I never got a chance to tell Sookie about what happened." She flashes him a poor rendition of her trademark smile and hopes that he cannot hear her discomfort.

Oblivious, he smiles and nods his assent.

She doesn't think she's ever moved faster in her life.


	3. Yours, Mine, and Mine

Lost, Without a Doubt

Summary: Rory, in the middle of an argument, helps Lorelai realize her mistake. If only she would admit it.

Setting: post _"French Twist"_

Disclaimer: Gilmore Girls belongs to CW or WB or whoever—just know it ain't me. Chapter title is a play off of _Yours, Mine and Ours._

**A/N:** I meant to update this about three months ago but I had absolutely zero inspiration for this chapter until about three days ago. So I _really _hope it's not as bad as I think it is. Just let me know (by…doing what? Reviewing! Yay!)

Ok, enjoy.

* * *

She leaves the house with every intention of keeping her word with Chris. She does; she doesn't have any reason not to. (She doesn't.)

Lorelai heads to the inn with every intention of telling Sookie about her elopement with Chris, but it's a long walk between the house and the Dragonfly and her subsequent conversations with Luke and Rory invade her mind like parasites.

Lorelai goes to the inn, ignores Michel, heads straight to the kitchen, opens her mouth to speak, and freezes. Something just stops her, and the big reveal doesn't happen.

The decision to not tell Sookie is not a conscious one. Lorelai wouldn't even categorize it as a decision, really. It's just something that...happens. (Or doesn't.)

It's not something she's willing to let happen.

At least not right away.

It's just hard, for some reason, for Lorelai to work herself up to breaking the news to her best friend.

Lorelai blames it on Rory's initial reaction to the elopement. Or, Lorelai _wants _to, anyway. It'd make things so much easier if Lorelai truly thought the only reason she didn't want to tell Sookie about what really happened in Paris is because she's afraid of her friend's reaction. It'd keep her from thinking about that other reason, which had buried and settled itself into Lorelai's mind ever since her argument with Rory and the inadvertent slip that fell from her mouth.

"Oh! You're back! How was Paris? Was Gigi excited to see Sherri? Is Sherri still tiny?"

Lorelai smiles softly (it's the first genuine one all morning) at Sookie's never-changing bubbly nature.

Sookie's happiness about her homecoming is a more than welcome change, a festive occasion, especially compared to Rory's outrage and Luke's disgruntlement—although really, Lorelai doesn't exactly blame Luke on that one.

She's wrong—completely wrong—and she knows that but it still doesn't keep her from doing it. Or _not_ doing it, actually.

"Paris was…nice. It really was," Lorelai replies with a decisive nod.

"Nice, huh? So I take it things with you and Christopher are still going pretty well?"

Lorelai can't help but wonder if she's actually hearing the second-guessing in Sookie's voice or if she's projecting her own doubt into the conversation. _It's not doubt, just a little…uncertainty._

"Things are going great… I'm just so glad he wanted me to come with him to help with the Sherri and Gigi thing. It's nice to be included, you know?"

Even as she says the words, Lorelai can't help but feel like the biggest hypocrite. _It's nice to be included…_And she can't even bring herself to tell her best friend she'd gone off and gotten _married_.

"Yeah, that is nice…" Sookie nods as she stirs whatever brilliant mixture she's come up with that's bound to be a new favorite among the Dragonfly guests. "Lorelai, honey, are you sure that you're not—"

Lorelai pours herself a cup of coffee, which is a million times better than what's masquerading as java back at the house. She breathes in the smell and tries to muster up the will to be excited, to summon the old I-Brake-for-Coffee Lorelai.

The Lorelai who wouldn't be such a coward.

She looks up and realizes Sookie was saying something before. "What?"

"Please, don't take this the wrong way… but are you sure that Christopher is what will make you happy? I mean, you seem to be doing a lot of comparing and contrasting these days."

"Comparing and contrasting _who_ to _who_?"

The look Sookie gives her is pointed and need not be accompanied by words.

"Sookie, I am doing _no_ such thing."

"It's probably not something that you're doing deliberately, honey, but you kind of are."

"Deliberate or accidental, I'm not comparing and contrasting anybody…and of course I'm sure. Christopher's great, Paris was great, everything's _great_. I'm happy. I am."

Lorelai hates the fact that she's lying to Sookie, but for now she isn't completely ready to admit what it is that she's lying about.

She's not quite ready to deal with the truth yet.

* * *

Christopher gets it into his head that they (Lorelai, Gigi, Rory and him) should have a family movie night. It's perfect, he says, since Gigi will be coming home from spending time at his mother's and Movie Night, as he's been told, was a long-standing tradition in the Gilmore household. Plus, it will be a nice opportunity for them to show Rory how good this marriage thing is.

These are his words, not Lorelai's. She would never have said "_was _a tradition". Besides, who holds Movie Night on a Tuesday?

But, this is him trying and she figures if she's going to work herself up to erasing that tiny, little niggling of doubt, then they're going to have to start doing the family thing- the right way this time.

But of course, Lorelai forgets how she banished any Luke-reminiscent movies to their own sad and neglected corner of the garage, leaving very few decent movie choices to pick form. Unfortunately (and stupidly) there is one film that was left behind, although she's not exactly sure how that's possible. She'd been so sure _that _movie was the first to go. In her haste, and emotional distress, she must have overlooked it.

"I _really _don't think that Gigi would want to see _Casablanca_, Chris." Lorelai leans forward, reaches for the video but he pulls back, smiling, obviously not catching on to her mood about his particular choice of viewing for the evening.

"Come on, you're never too young to learn about the classics. I believe that is what a wise woman once told me."

"Yes well that rule is only put into effect once you've at least hit the age of six when there's an actual possibility of keeping your eyes open past a half hour video," Lorelai scoffs. "Chris, just give me the movie."

"What's the big deal? So Gigi falls asleep; then me, you, and Rory can watch it."

"Trust me, Rory doesn't want to watch this either. Will you just give me the damn movie?"

Christopher frowns then, finally, concedes and hands over the treacherous VHS. "What is with you?"

"Nothing, okay? I just don't want—we'll go and rent tons of other movies, better movies okay? Just…_not_ this one."

"Okay?" she pleads, her tone begging.

He stands silent for a moment, but then nods, though the expression on his face is far from understanding. "…Okay."

* * *

Somehow, she finds herself wandering aimlessly through the science fiction section of the Stars Hollow video store.

After picking out Rory's choices, Lorelai has left Gigi and Chris behind, mulling over a hard choice between _Finding Nemo_, _The Incredibles_, and _The Little Mermaid_.

_Tough call. _

Lorelai picks up a copy of _Young Frankenstein_ and actually considers getting it but thinks, that in the end, it just wouldn't be the same.

Just as she's about to set it back on the shelf, she immediately feels herself tense up upon hearing a certain voice, before her mind even really recognizes who it is.

"…. I mean, I've always been intrigued by the juxtaposition that the machines make of what your mind perceives things to be with the way things actually are. Though I'm surprised Kirk actually allows it here although it's not too violent, just enough to get the point across, not senseless. But still he can go a little overboard when it comes to "protecting" the town… You'll like it, dad, maybe even better than _Star Wars_," April rambles on, strolling down the aisle as she gestures wildly to _The_ _Matrix_ DVD in her hand. Luke walks beside her in his trademark way with his hands deep in his jean pockets, reluctant but clearly more than content to be in April's presence.

"Star Trek," he corrects her, but with an appreciative and proud smile.

They seem so at ease. _He _seems so at ease.

Until he sees her.

Luke shifts a bit, takes his hands out of his pockets, takes a moment to survey the floor before looking up at Lorelai. She looks away.

April is the first to address her, animated as always. "Hey, Lorelai!"

"Hey, April. Luke." In spite of herself, Lorelai works up a smile and plasters it to her face, hoping it appears a lot more confident than she feels. "How's it going?"

"Oh, great except that Luke here has never seen _The_ _Matrix—_ can you believe it? I mean, there was this whole craze about it in the 90's but I guess it must have missed him completely. So of course I told him we had to come out and rent it."

"Oh, of course."

"I'm going to try my luck and see if they have the sequels," April waves, nods and moves past them, leaving them behind to stare at each other.

Despite her initial reaction to Luke's presence (and their last interaction) at the same time Lorelai finds herself feeling (almost) glad to see him.

"So, _The Matrix_, huh?" Lorelai takes a stab in the dark at starting up conversation, eying him carefully, half expecting him to go into another diatribe about the proper way to inform your ex-fiancé that you've eloped. To her surprise, he meets her gaze and actually holds it for longer than five seconds. Lorelai feels her face warm and quickly looks away.

Luke shrugs. "Yeah, well, April thinks I need to update my taste in sci-fi. Since I am, 'inherently stuck in The Man Trap'— her words, not mine."

Lorelai feels herself smile a bit even as they slip into an odd sort of silence. Still, even though it is beyond awkward, she tells herself to comment, "She seems… comfortable around you. Called you _dad_ and everything."

"Yeah, she doesn't do it all the time…just when she feels like it, I guess. I haven't really mentioned it to her. Didn't want to make her feel weird about it or anything." Typical Luke: always understating his importance, but in a way that makes him so unforgettable.

She opens her mouth to say something, anything to expand the conversation beyond whatever it is when a small voice a few rows behind them attracts her attention.

"—But I _want _it!"

"Gigi, no, you already had ice cream earlier—"

"But this is _candy_!"

Lorelai looks over quickly at Luke who, thankfully, doesn't seem to recognize either of the voices. Though, she questions herself for a moment as to why, if he did, that it would even matter. "I have to, uh, go." She holds up the forgotten DVD in her hand. "Movie night."

He doesn't ask with who, and she wholeheartedly (and, obviously silently) thanks him for that.

"On Tuesday?"

It shouldn't surprise Lorelai that Luke remembers but still, she can't help but smile slightly at his response. "Yeah…well, Rory doesn't have classes this week so we just wanted to catch up," she lies.

Luke nods, though his eyes are narrowed. "I should get back to April."

"Right." Lorelai pauses before turning then does an awkward sort of wave. "Bye, Luke."

He sticks out his hand in his own signature wave. Luke nods again but hesitates a moment before walking away.

She waits for him to say something but nothing comes.

At the register, Christopher waits with Gigi, pouting but subdued their choices for the upcoming Movie Night chosen. "Hello, Lorelai," Kirk greets from behind the counter. "Are you going to get that?"

"What?"

"_Young Frankenstein. _While I am a Peter Boyle fan, I'm not sure it's completely appropriate for that little one over there. I mean, what if she has recurring nightmares? I myself had a rather trying experience after watching _I Was a Teenage Werewolf—_"

"No, I'm not, Kirk." Lorelai shakes her head. "Are we done here, Chris?"

And she restrains herself from shaking her head again, stopping herself from giving any more thought to the double meaning.

* * *

"So… this is new."

Rory murmurs to Lorelai's back; she's arranging fish sticks, chicken nuggets and tater tots on a baking pan. Christopher's cooking is just as bad as Lorelai's, if not worse.

Lorelai closes the oven door with a sigh. While she and Rory weren't technically still fighting, they also still hadn't technically talked about the fight or completely apologized yet. But, god, Lorelai is not in the mood to argue it out with her— not tonight when her mind already feels so…crowded.

"What is?"

"The whole Movie Night on Tuesday Night. What's up with that?" Rory crosses her arms across her abdomen, but the expression on her face isn't defensive or angry, it's more curious. Odd.

"It's not _new_ exactly, just… a modified, edited version."

"I do believe that we've tried this already, Mom."

"Well, this time it's different, Rory," Lorelai hears her lips mumble halfheartedly. She sneaks a look behind Rory's shoulder; just to be sure that Gigi and Chris aren't overhearing them.

"What makes this different?"

"This whole night was your dad's idea. He figured you'd be happy about it."

The look on Rory's face is skeptical at best. Lorelai purses her lips as she feels her chest constrict a bit, and almost has a flashback to the night when she freaked herself out to the point where she kept couldn't restart the Jeep in front of Luke's. "Are you not happy about it?"

Rory softens her approach, probably sensing the small sense of panic creeping into her mother's tone. "I just—I figure that I'm not a kid anymore and I don't need my mommy and daddy setting up this fantasy of the 'perfect family' for me. I can handle the truth."

"It's not a fantasy," Lorelai says after a moment of hesitancy. "I just…_need_ this to work, Rory. You have to understand that." _Need, otherwise known as an absence of want. _The thought is unbidden, uncontrollable and stays with her for the rest of the night.

The timer on the oven goes off. Rory sighs, pats Lorelai on the back and moves past to take the food out of the oven. "…Well, if you need it to work then, let's go make it work."

* * *

Halfway through _Little Buddha_ (a Rory choice) Gigi is out cold and Rory isn't far behind her.

"Chris." Lorelai nudges his arm behind her and gestures toward Gigi. "Where is she going to sleep?"

He shrugs as Gigi's thumb makes its way into her mouth. "Rory's room?"

Lorelai presses her lips in a thin line. Where would Rory sleep?

Rory sits up, rubbing her eyes blearily and answers Lorelai's unasked question. "I'll sleep out here. It's fine. The couch is just lovely."

Lorelai knows from experience that the couch is _not_ 'lovely', that it is, in fact, _nowhere near_ 'lovely'. It's impossibly uncomfortable to sleep on, has been the cause of many a back spasm from forgetting that fact.

"Sure, put her in Rory's room." Lorelai bites the inside of her cheek, not exactly comfortable with the idea of Gigi just _taking over _Rory's room. It just didn't feel… right. At all.


	4. I've Got a Bad Feeling About This

Lost, Without a Doubt

Summary: Rory, in the middle of an argument, helps Lorelai realize her mistake. If only she would admit it.

Setting: post _"French Twist"_.

Disclaimer: don't own it.

**A/N**: anybody out there? (echoes)

I know it's been forever. No excuses, it just took a while (long while) for me to finally just sit down and write this. And I'm still not completely happy with it, but anyways... review; opinions are more than welcome.

* * *

There are blue spots on the ceiling.

Lorelai blinks once, twice, three times, and the blue-ish green blobs on the ceiling disappear, her dry eyes feel a little sense of relief.

She's been awake since six—actually she's been awake since six most days, been awake and hiding it.

It's not a reason she is proud of; in spite of herself she's gotten used to the old schedule, grown accustomed to allowing herself to get up at six on the days of those early deliveries, if only for the sake of seeing him for a few extra minutes before drifting off again with him on her mind and his scent on her pillow.

Now, he isn't here but still her body can't allow her to forget, can't let go of the routine and shake away the feeling that something is missing.

"Hey, where are you going?"

It's seven-thirty, Friday morning. Lorelai feels it in her gut that it's going to be a long day and so she needs a lot more of a pick-me-up than the Crap of Joe that Christopher has convinced himself is coffee.

On the answering machine, there is a message from her mother, saying how she wants to hear all about their trip to Paris, all the details, with not a stone left unturned.

Lorelai figures that might have a little something to do with the slight headache in her temples, her inability to close her eyes for more than five minutes without them popping back open.

Christopher tries to pull her towards the bed but she slides out of his grip, and instead places a chaste kiss on his cheek. "Doose's— I'm, uh, out of paper towels. And hairspray."

"I'll alert the media. Come back to bed," he insists.

She cringes.

"And coffee," she continues, turning her shoulders partway towards the door. She taps her fingers anxiously against her thigh, wishing she could just delete the first part of what he said, and start the conversation over completely. "Definitely out of coffee."

He frowns. "You alright?"

"Yeah, it's just you know I can get without my coffee…" She lets the sentence trail off, not really caring about what's on the end of it as she is more focused on getting out the door than fooling him into believing her with some witty reference, a charming of words that used to come so easy and feel so light. _The reference is enough, you'll learn that one day. _

The air in there is suddenly very thin. "Very bad, without the coffee."

"Well, we can't have that…"

"No, no we can't." She stands up suddenly, his hand drops from hers and she can't help but stare; honestly, she didn't even realize he was holding it.

"Lorelai?"

"Be back in no time. Scout's honor," she assures him, and tries to squash the tiny little thought at the back of her mind that's wishing for something to delay her from keeping that promise.

* * *

She's drawing a blank on which type of coffee she should get: French Vanilla, Colombian, dark roast, French roast or dark French roast. She can't remember what Christopher likes, if he even wants coffee and, at the moment, she is in an apathetic mood towards all things French.

Lorelai unceremoniously tosses a bag of neutral Colombian beans into the basket dangling from her arm then moves on to the cereal. She hasn't had Fruit Loops in ages and so, hastily, she grabs it, remembering but not really registering that the only cereal Gigi will eat is Cheerios.

She does remember that she actually is in need of paper towels, and light bulbs, and turns into the aisle she's looking for. Before she even turns around fully, she catches sight of a familiar green jacket, out of the corner of her eye.

Lorelai holds her breath, somewhere between her stomach and her throat, then lets it out, the tuff of air rustling her hair just slightly. She sets her mouth in a thin line then braces herself for the worst.

"Hey," she says quietly, so soft she isn't completely sure he's heard her.

She opens her mouth to try again but then, he nods though the expression on Luke's face is somewhere this side of unreadable. "Hey."

"Wow, uh, you're up early…well, I mean of course you're up early. You're always up early." And she looks down and swallows hard at the inadvertent slip of memory, unsure of what it is that she should say next.

"Yeah, uh, I had to come and buy some bread because we…ran out of bread. Surprised to see you here so early, though."

She allows a little half-smile to cross her face, and lightly shakes the basket she's holding. "Ran out of coffee."

"And yet you're still standing."

"Oh, yeah, well just barely." Lorelai looks at the floor for a moment, frowning. She knows she needs to say this. "Listen, I feel like I should—" She stops, shakes her head, and then tries to start again. "I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry Luke—about the other day… I mean I really didn't mean for you to find out…like that." _Or at all really, _her mind adds but she doesn't say that part out loud.

"Okay," he says slowly. He's quiet after that, and it makes Lorelai uneasy, not knowing what he's thinking, feeling so disconnected from him. She can't remember ever feeling like that before now.

"Okay," she repeats with an uncertain nod. "Okay?"

"Thanks…I mean you don't have to but, thanks."

Lorelai blinks. "Yes I do. And you're welcome." They lapse into a silence that isn't exactly comfortable, but not entirely unbearable, either. She gestures behind her. "Well, I should probably—"

"I think you should, uh, come by the diner…the next time you run out of coffee. I mean, you can, if you want," he adds hastily.

"Uh, o-okay I, uh, yeah sure," she stammers in response.

"Okay, good."

"Good." Lorelai smiles softly, nodding. _Good._

* * *

The smile on Emily's face when she opens the door Friday evening once she sees mother, father, and daughter all lined up like a Rockwell Family portrait is frightening; for a moment Lorelai seriously considers whether or not she should cover Gigi's eyes to keep her from getting nightmares. The smile falters only slightly when Emily settles her gaze on Gigi, but that seems to be something she's willing to overlook in the grand scheme of the bigger picture.

She keeps it up for most of the night, pausing in between DAR anecdotes or Richard's traveling stories about Prague and Doosledorf simply to comment how "wonderful" it all is.

Lorelai forces herself to swallow back her nausea, and doesn't comment on the fact that Christopher is actually agreeing with her.

"I don't like this," Gigi announces abruptly, cutting right into Emily's story. She frowns into her plate while Emily's face freezes.

"Gigi, please. You don't have to eat it, okay? Just sit nicely, please."

Emily looks displeased at Gigi's opinion, but somehow she manages not to let it out. "...so, Lorelai, Christopher how was your trip to Paris?"

She sees Christopher glance at her out of the corner of her eye, but he doesn't make any move to or effort to say anything. Anything productive, at least. "Well, we-" he stops, shifts in his seat.

Lorelai sighs, rolling her eyes slightly and sets down her fork, an action to which Emily raises her eyebrows (Richard, on the other hand, doesn't seem to notice.) She reaches within herself to find some courage. "Mom, Dad... Christopher and I are, well, we're married."

She takes their silence as a bad sign, and her next words come out rushed.

"We got married in Paris- it's legal and everything so you don't have to worry about that-"

"Of course it's legal, I'm not worried about _that. _We need to have a ceremony," Emily states precisely, definitively.

Lorelai feels her mouth set into a thin line. She looks to Christopher for help, but he shrugs, unwilling to be pitted against her mother. "Oh no, Mom, that's really not necessary. We're already-"

"Of course it is, Lorelai, this is your _marriage_. It has to be announced properly."

It took her a moment to process what Emily's saying. "So... you're okay with this?"

"She practically pushed it," Richard mumbles from across the table. He looks up in surprise; that came out louder than he'd intended.

"I'm perfectly fine with it," Emily answers, after shooting Richard a look.

Somehow, this does nothing to quell the unsettled feeling in her stomach.

* * *

He's talking about something, nothing too important but still, she isn't listening. She doesn't want to admit what she's thinking of, but in spite of herself, she can't seem to will the image of Luke's face, telling her she can stop by the diner, out of her mind.

What did it mean? What did _he_ mean?

"Lore?"

"What was that, hon?"

"I was just wondering what Sookie said when you told her."

"When I told her..." She trails off, pretending to be unaware of what he's talking about, hoping to bide time.

"About us."

"Lore?"

She doesn't look at him, can't really bring herself to lift her eyes up towards his. "I, uh, didn't exactly get a chance to tell her yet."

"What?"

She sighs, and fidgets with the napkin holder. "I didn't…exactly get a chance to tell Sookie about us getting married."

"Well, why the hell not?"

"I don't know, Chris, I just—I didn't—" And she stops herself because there is nothing that she can say to fully explain herself, nothing that won't hurt him—or, at least bring to light her uncertainty about their marriage.

"You don't _know_? What do you mean, you don't know?"

"Things were just really busy at the inn after I was gone for our trip and I just—" Lorelai can't help but cringe at the lack of creativity in her lie, the meek undertone of her voice. Both things she recognizes but doesn't have the heart nor the desire to do anything about.

Christopher takes a breath, looks at the ground. His expression is more pained than angry, which only adds to Lorelai's uneasiness and guilt. "I don't understand, Lore, I thought you two were friends."

"We _are_ friends—"

"Then why wouldn't you tell her about us?"

"Sookie is my best friend, the best I've had, next to Rory and L—" Shit. Once again, she is filled with the need to censor herself, for Chris' sake (and subsequently her own). Lorelai looks up at Christopher, waiting for a reaction, wondering if he knows the word (and who) she's kept herself from revealing.

He does. (And she realizes he's not as clueless as she thought he was.)

"Rory and _who_, Lorelai? Michel?" he bites sarcastically.

"Next to Rory," she insists stubbornly, biting down on her bottom lip.

"No Lorelai, finish it. Say it."

"No,

"Why won't you say it?"

"Because there's nothing to say!"

Christopher I didn't mean—"

"You didn't mean _what_? What were you going to say this time?"

"Will you please just let me talk?" He's quiet but then, she notices, his silence only serves to amplify the obvious fact that she has nothing to say. "I don't know why I didn't tell her," she says after a long while. "But I will. Soon…Tomorrow. I'll tell her tomorrow, you know and about the whole wedding redo ceremony. It'll be great."

She waits a moment for him to agree, to assure her that now all is forgiven. He's quiet.

"Chris?"

Christopher shakes his head. His gaze remains on the floor for a full minute before he looks up at her and the look in his eyes is not one that she likes. "I'm going for a walk," is all he says.

"A _walk? _Chris, would you just-"

"I'll be back in a little bit." His voice is cold, the words uttered in a tone she isn't exactly accustomed to.

"Chris, please, don't-"

The door slams shut, before she can even finish.


	5. Her vs Me vs You vs Him

Lost, Without a Doubt

Summary: Rory, in the middle of an argument, helps Lorelai realize her mistake. If only she would admit it.

Disclaimer: fight scene burrowed from show. (_"Merry Fisticuffs"_? Is that right?)

Setting: post "_French Twist"_.

**A/N: **...i've kind of lost interest in this. my bad. nevertheless, i will try to finish it (because no story gets left behind). :P

The next chapter will more than likely be the last.

* * *

His vision has become a little blurred around the edges with the help of alcohol and anger, but he doesn't think he will ever forget that hideous green truck and who its owner is. His jaw clenches shut and Christopher stalks toward him, fists clenched till his knuckles turned white, seething. They seem to have reached a silent and mutual understanding.

He unbuttons the top collar of his shirt (to give him room to breathe) as Luke tosses his jacket to the side and it lands somewhere in a patch of grass. It's not important. They meet in the middle of the deserted street—well, technically his face meets Luke's fist in the middle of the street.

It is not a fight that lasts long.

After toppling over baby Jesus in the midst of the tranquil nativity scene, Christopher limps away, face and ego bruised, wondering if going back home- back to Lorelai's, he mentally corrects, because she seems to be doing everything within her power to keep it from becoming _their _home- is worth it.

* * *

"Lorelai? Are you even listening to me?"

She nods, her chin rubbing against the palm of her hand and yet somehow the words "Not in the least bit," still manage to tumble out of her mouth without her consent. She closes her eyes for a moment and sighs; she didn't mean to say that out loud.

"Honestly, Lorelai, you could be a little more grateful—"

"You know what? You're right. I could. I'm sorry. _So_ sorry." She wants this day to be over with, and soon. _Now_, if possible. She knows that when it comes to Emily Gilmore, the only way to make that happen is to apologize and agree.

Emily sets her mouth into a firm line. "Well, there's no need to be sarcastic," she says primly.

Lorelai sighs, annoyed, but unable to completely blame her mother. She's always been sensitive to the things she says; Lorelai guesses she could have left off that second "sorry".

"I didn't mean to offend you, mother. Honestly. Please, continue."

Emily goes silent for a moment as she studies her daughter closely. Finally, she breaks gazes and looks down at the list in front of her. "Roasted Cornish hen or Summer Cornish roast?"

"Is there a difference?" she asks, impassive. She rests her chin on her hands and tries to stifle a yawn.

"The seasoning. Both have garlic, but-"

"Go with the one with less garlic, then," Lorelai murmurs, distractedly.

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure," she insists although that couldn't be further from the truth.

Truth is she doesn't _care _about any of this. The only thing that should matter is having her friends there, but she doesn't feel like this is the things they should be celebrating, doesn't feel right and for some reason, she is reluctant to force them to be a part of it.

"Now, as for the drinks…"

Lorelai holds back another sigh as Emily hands her a list of over a hundred different wines and cocktail mixes.

She's starting to feel reluctant, herself.

* * *

Rory sighs in frustration as she continues blindly down another street, not bothering to look at the sign. All roads lead back to the town square, eventually, anyway. "I'm trying to be supportive. I really am. But I just don't understand _why_ they had to go and do _this._ I thought they'd date and realize, eventually- I just never thought this would happen. Not for real."

"Maybe…they're in love." Lane, ever the romantic.

"It's not that simple. Besides, I don't think that's it." Rory, ever the pragmatist and logical thinker.

"Why not?"

"Because—"

"Isn't this what you wanted? Ever since I could remember, you've always said how it would be wonderful and great and peachy keen once your parents got back together."

Rory frowns, cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder as she bends over to tie her shoe. _"_'Peachy keen'? If I ever _do_ use that phrase, please kill me."

"You know what I mean," Lane huffs. Rory presses her cell phone back to her ear, as she hooks a left and finds herself at the town square. For the first time since, well, _ever_, she'd been feeling a little suffocated at the House Formerly Known as the Crap Shack, even though she was the only one there. She hoped a walk and pep talk with Lane would do her some good. So far, though, Rory has been sorely mistaken.

"It was different back then. I mean, I was convinced that them being together was right and would make everything okay because that's what every kid who's parents aren't together wants, when they're little. But now..."

"Now?"

"Now, I'm not so convinced anymore." She pauses before crossing the street, discovers that her walk has taken her to Luke's. She considers heading inside, because she honestly misses him and the crap coffee her mother bought couldn't possibly compare, but decides at the last second that it might not be best, for anyone, if she did. Instead, she turns towards the bookstore, hoping Andrew's winter discount sale will make her feel better.

* * *

It's late, closer to midnight than eleven, but Lorelai finds herself nursing a cold mug of coffee as she waits for Christopher to come home. _Always waiting, _she thinks morosely.

At 12:07, she hears the front door close, detects his poor attempt to be discreet.

"Where the hell have you been?"

He stops, just at the bottom of the staircase, but doesn't look up. "I went for a walk."

"For seven hours?" She scoffs, disbelieving. "I know you're not familiar with the town, but-"

He looks up at her then, and even in the dim light coming from the lamp on the table, she can't miss the bruise that's starting to form on his cheek. "What happened? Are you alright?"

He inches away from her hand and while she pretends not to notice, it still unsettles her. "I...got into a fight."

Lorelai has a sudden and unwelcome flashback to high school, when he wore a nearly identical expression after punching Danny Meester after he called her a slut. "A _fight_? With who?"

He glares, pointedly, at her. "Who else? The Diner Man. Sorry, _your _diner man."

"Luke? Why, why, _why _would you do that?" She shakes her head, amazed at his audacity. "You can't _do_ things like that, Christopher!"

"Why not? Worried I'll hurt your precious Luke?" he spits out. He looks oddly comical with his lip swollen and the misplaced righteous indignation scrawled across his features.

Lorelai opens her mouth for rebuttal, but stops before the words leave her mouth. Because, in a small, tiny, minuscule way, he's right. He's _right. _Goddammit, for once, Christopher is completely and utterly right.

"You can't just punch Luke every time we get in an argument or you don't like something that I do," she snaps.

"You didn't _do _anything. That's the problem. And, the last time I checked, _he _was the one who punched _me_ four months ago!"

"I told you I'm telling Sookie tomorrow-"

"Whatever," he interrupts, his tone rueful. "I mean, you'll do what you want to do, right? No one can force Lorelai Gilmore to do anything she doesn't want to do. I should have learned that by now."

He shakes his head and walks toward the door. She almost says that he has nowhere else to go, then remembers, almost immediately that she never let him give up the lease on his apartment. Good thing, she guesses.

She doesn't ask him when he'll be back, doesn't wait up for him to call and let her know he's gotten wherever it is that he's going safely.

* * *

It goes without saying that she is not exactly looking forward to the end of the week. But it comes, without her permission, and just as all the other Fridays before it, she finds herself standing side by side with her daughter, unwilling to be the first to ring the doorbell.

She never actually expected him to show up to Friday Night Dinner. Still, when her mother questions her about his and GiGi's whereabouts, she isn't at all prepared with a plausible excuse that would cover their absence.

"Isn't he working, Mom?" Rory asks leadingly, as she nudges Lorelai in the side with her elbow.

"Right, yeah. Big...project, er, thing." Why can't she ever remember what it is that he does for a living?

Emily furrows her brow, frowning in disapproval, but otherwise doesn't let her opinion be known. She walks to the dining room, let the issue die, for once, in the foyer.

Lorelai says a silent thank you for little miracles and quietly follows her daughter into the dining room.


	6. To Live and Let Go

Lost, Without a Doubt

Summary: Rory, in the middle of an argument, helps Lorelai realize her mistake. If only she would admit it.

Setting: Post _"French Twist"_.

Disclaimer: don't own any characters

**A/N**: finally got a second wind on this; i will be wrapping this up soon, just not this chapter. enjoy. :]

* * *

Two days pass without a word from Chris. No phone call, no remorseful message left on the answering machine. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

Two days is also the amount of time it takes her to stop waiting and she turns off her cell phone and the ringer on the house phone to help her think.

These are two days that Lorelai spends pacing in the living room; on her couch (and then off her couch); staring blankly at the obnoxious flat screen mounted on her wall; examining her wedding ring and rethinking its meaning, surprised by how little thought she actually gave to it when she and Christopher _actually_ got married.

She slides the ring down the length of her finger, the simple action morphing and transforming her hand into this unrecognizable…_thing_ that seems to be completely separate from her body. The ring looks odd, out of place, and, before now, she wasn't really ready to admit that it's just a little bit too small for her finger.

Lorelai slides the ring off and rests it on top of the coffee table, not at all surprised by how much better she feels once she is separated from it. She rests her chin in her hands and stares at it.

_So simple, _she thinks_._

* * *

Lorelai furrows her brows and worries her bottom lip between her teeth. Her grip tightens around the handle of her bag, skin stretching taut across her knuckles.

_Maybe it's too soon... It's too soon to try to say anything. _

The diner is empty, save Luke and a couple of unknown stragglers, but Luke's solid presence is the only thing that keeps her standing, immobile and basically terrified of what her next move should be, in front of the closed door.

_You shouldn't be here. It's too soon_, she tells herself. She shakes her head and, without thinking, grabs the door handle. _Idiot, what are you doing? Just because things were okay between you the other day—well unbelievably awkward, actually— you can't just walk in there and expect…what exactly is it that you're expecting?_

_He said I should come by the diner again. It's not... everything but it's _something_, at least._

_Maybe more than I deserve right now.  
_

The breath she takes is resolved, determined, maybe; it's hard to tell. It's been a while since she's felt either.

But, maybe, this will help.

"Gotta start somewhere," she mumbles to herself and turns the handle.

The bell above the door has never chimed so ominously before this moment. This incredibly tense, on the verge of becoming unbearable, moment.

Luke actually stops in his steps, coffee pot and breakfast plate in hand, at the sight of her.

"Hey." Is that her speaking? She feels her mouth moving, registers the fact that words are leaving it, but that voice, so quiet and meek, sounds _nothing _like her. "Hi," she tries again and does it better this time. She's louder; she sounds so much more sure of herself and what she's doing. (Even if she technically isn't, yet.)

"Hi."

"Hi," she echoes, and nearly rolls her eyes at her own stupidity.

"…You uh, want some coffee?"

"Yes. Please," Lorelai adds awkwardly.

"For here or…?" he leaves the sentence hanging, the invitation open; this step forward is for her to take. She knows she has to be the one who's making the effort here. He certainly doesn't owe her anything.

"For here. Definitely." She punctuates her decision with a tentative smile and a nod of her head.

They don't talk about anything beyond the weather and other superficial topics- she stumbles through a two minute conversation about sports before giving up- and, though it is frustrating, Lorelai is grateful for this second chance, a start at...something.

Luke hands over a to-go bag with a shrug of uncertainty as he fidgets, adjusting the baseball cap- the one that just...looks so _wrong_-and offers, "It's a Danish."

She frowns, not quite understanding. "But I'm not really hungry."

"Well, for later, then."

_"You'll get it." _

_"How do you know?" _

_"I know." _

_"How do you know?" _

_"Because I know, okay? I know. Now, eat your donut."_

And then, finally, she smiles sadly, as she remembers how different everything is now, how different _they_ are now. And how they can never completely go back to the way things used to be.

"Thanks, Luke."

* * *

Rory closes the front door quietly behind her, but the house is silent, unmoving, and the sound of the door shutting still echoes. She frowns, wondering whether or not she should be worried that her father's Volvo is still absent from the driveway. It doesn't bother her as much as it probably should, but she does wonder how her mother is doing. "Mom? You home?"

"In here, hon." Lorelai's voice drifts towards from the kitchen, and she follows it. She finds her mother sitting at the table, with her back to the doorway, her head resting in her hands.

"Hey."

"Hi." She sits down across from her, noting that while she still looks distant, there's a light, a hope, a presence in Lorelai's eyes that hasn't been there in a long time. "So... I've talked to Lane, I've conference called Logan-"

"'Conference call'? Aw, sweets, you really have grown up."

Rory ignores her comment and continues. "I know that I haven't exactly been supportive of you and Dad and this...relationship."

"Rory, don't. I- It's okay."

"But," she frowns, "I wanted to apologize for not being supportive, for not accepting that it was what you wanted-"

_It wasn't what I wanted. _

"Sweets, I understand now why you weren't. This whole marriage thing caught you off guard. Hell, it caught _me_ off guard. I wasn't expecting..." Lorelai trails off, unsure not of _what_ to say but if Rory would be okay with hearing it. "This hasn't turned out the way I thought."

"Still no word from Dad, huh?"

"I don't think I'm waiting on word from Dad anymore."

"Mom..."

"If he wanted to talk, if he had anything to say..." _If I cared enough anymore to listen. _"It's been two days, Rory. Forty-eight hours. Nick Nolte and Eddie Murphy had better lines of communication than we do."

Rory sighs, then notices the design on the paper cup her mother has been rolling between her hands. "You went to _Luke's_ today?" she asks, careful, hesitant about saying his name especially since the last time Luke was brought up.

"... I missed the coffee. I haven't," Lorelai pauses, takes a breath, "stopped missing the coffee."

It's not exactly subtle and, even if it was, Lorelai has a feeling Rory would catch on anyway. "Oh, mom..."

"I made a mistake, a huge mistake, the biggest mistake I think I've ever... Why didn't you stop me?"

"What? Seriously?"

"Yes! We always stop each other from doing things we know we're going to regret. The page boy haircut- remember that? Took me days to talk you out of it but I saved you _months_ of possible ridicule."

"This isn't exactly the same thing. I didn't know you were going to Paris to get _married_."

"I know. It was just... too soon," Lorelai affirms out loud. "_Way_ too soon."

They sit in silence for a few seconds before Rory begins to fidget, shifting in her seat and clearing her throat. Lorelai notices, eyebrow raised, but doesn't say anything. She waits. "…So what time is the thing tonight, again?"

"Thing? What thing?"

"The dinner…Grandma didn't tell you about it?"

At this, Lorelai feels herself immediately grow tense, and oddly alert. "No, well, she might have. You know that talking to your grandmother turns me into Leonardo."

"DiCaprio?"

"Da Vinci. The guy who cut off his ear so he wouldn't have to listen to his mother?"

"That was van Gogh and, either way, in spite of I'm pretty sure the severe depression may have had something to do with it."

"Well, _either way_, why else would he have been severely depressed?"

"So, you're not going," Rory surmises, her brow furrowed.

"Probably not."

"She's going to expect to see you there. You _and _Dad."

"If she hasn't learned by now not to set the bar too high, then I don't know how else to teach her."

"Mom, you should go."

"Why?"

"It'll be good for you, to get out, to not think about..." Rory trails off, because even to her own ears, her reasoning doesn't hold water. "You should go."

"You have always been, and always will be a terrible liar. What's going on?"

"I may have already mentioned grandma's dinner thing to Dad," she finally admits slowly.

"When?"

"...When I called him. I told him you wanted to talk, that you need to talk."

The irony of the situation, Rory being the one to encourage the conversation that will, no doubt, lead to discussions about the viability of their marriage, is not lost on Lorelai.

She sighs. "Maybe you're right."

Except, Lorelai knows, there is no 'maybe' about it.

* * *

The dinner, as Lorelai expected, is less about enjoying a good meal and more about making the most perfect, wonderful impression on Emily and Richard's friends.

She keeps mostly to herself, standing near the window, wondering if Christopher does show up - unlikely - if he'll actually want to talk about _them_, here, if at all.

"Lorelai, _there_ you are. Emily said you were coming but I wasn't sure if I should believe her."

Before she can take a sip of her martini with an olive, she is cornered by an overly coiffed blond whose name she should probably remember.

"Well you know my mother, all about the pranks, that one."

"So, how is life as a newlywed?"

"Excuse me?" Lorelai frowns, trying to swallow back a wave of nausea as the blond goes on and on about family values and true love and registering for the best gifts and it isn't until about halfway through the woman's spiel that Lorelai realizes she forgot to put her ring back on.

"Huh." She didn't even notice. It didn't even bother her, not really.

"... Lorelai? Are you alright?"

She nods quickly and sets aside her drink on a table, which she has no doubt will stay there until Emily notices. "I just, uh, really need some fresh air."

She doesn't stick around to hear the woman's reaction, ignores her curious and probing stares, and grabs her purse to head outside.

She sits down on the steps, though the positioning is a little awkward and breathes in deep, taking in fresh air.

A grumbling from her stomach reminds her that it's been a while since she's eaten, and she is more than surprised by the fact that she can't remember when the last time that was. This afternoon, maybe, after she stopped by...

With a small smile, Lorelai reaches inside her purse and tentatively pulls out the cherry Danish from her abrupt visit to Luke's.

She takes a bite, licks a bit of cherry from her finger and stares, contemplatively, at her bare ring finger. It feels like a weight has been lifted, and she can start to breathe again.

"Lore?"

She's surprised that she isn't angry that he just shows up, after not speaking to her for days, considering she is his wife - but only in the technical sense. She has never given herself over fully to Chris; it just isn't the kind of relationship they're meant for. She's starting to accept that. "Chris. Hey. You came."

He stands next to her and tries to smile, though it seems sad, resigned. "Yeah... You wanted to talk?"

"Yeah, I think we should."


	7. But Is It Too Late, Baby?

Lost, Without a Doubt

Summary: Rory, in the middle of an argument, helps Lorelai realize her mistake. If only she would admit it.

Setting: Post _"French Twist_."

Disclaimer: don't own any characters, chapter title derives from a Carole King song.

**A/N**: In the midst of re-adding the breaks that ffnet deleted (grrr) I've kind of edited this story a bit (or, a lot, actually). Still the same design, plot, etc, just with a few tweaks here and there. Side note: this was a tad difficult to write, but hopefully the end result is satisfactory. :3

* * *

She sits down on the front steps, though the positioning is a little awkward because the steps are positioned so low, and breathes in deep, taking in the fresh air she so desperately needs.

A grumbling from her stomach reminds her that it's been a while since she's eaten last, and she is more than surprised by the fact that she can't remember when the last time that was. This afternoon, maybe, after she stopped by...

With a small smile, Lorelai reaches inside her purse and tentatively pulls out the cherry Danish from her abrupt visit to Luke's.

She takes a bite, licks a bit of cherry filling from her finger and stares, contemplatively, at her bare ring finger. It feels like a weight has been lifted, and she can finally begin to breathe again.

"Lore?"

She's surprised that she isn't angry that he just shows up, after not speaking to her for days, considering she is his wife - but only in the technical sense. She has never given herself over fully to Chris; it just isn't the kind of relationship they're meant for. She's starting to accept that. "Chris. Hey. You came."

He stands next to her and tries to smile, though it seems sad, resigned. "Yeah… You wanted to talk?"

"Yeah, I think we should."

The solitary swing hangs from the branches of an aging oak tree on the side of the house. The chains have turned an almost red-orange from rust and the seat is weathered and wearied from the passage of time. The swing was just about the only "indulgence" (Emily's phrasing) Lorelai was given during her childhood that she actually enjoyed, that actually meant something. This swing and the dollhouse.

"I loved this swing," she reminisces softly, and she sits down, not caring about what the hackneyed wooden seat could do to her dress or the way the rusted chains connecting the swing and the tree's branches scratches against her palms.

"I remember." Christopher's tone is equally quiet and thoughtful. "I _also_ remember that this swing was the cause of our very first fight."

"Your fault," she can't help reminding him.

"We were, like, eight—"

"And you pushed me way too hard, so I fell and skinned my knee and ruined the awful, pink, tulle dress my mother forced me to wear, which I wasn't exactly too upset about but she was convinced that I did it on purpose."

"And because of that, you wouldn't talk to me for a week. My very first Gilmore Girl freeze out."

"Yeah, well, it was a lesson you needed to learn. ...We do have some good memories," Lorelai concedes.

"I know."

"…And some not so good ones."

He sighs. "I know that, too."

"I think…that's all we're supposed to have. A history, memories. And Rory," she adds with a sad smile. "We'll always have Rory."

"And Rory," Chris echoes. He sighs, scratches the bridge of his nose. "Is this about- is this about Luke?"

"No, no this isn't not about Luke. At least not completely."

It would be easy to say yes, to soften the blow and try to protect him, though why she is always filled with the need to protect him, now a grown man and no longer the scared kid he was when they were sixteen, from the reality of their situation, she will probably never figure out on her own.

Lorelai looks down at her feet, shaking her head, but knowing that she needs to get this out, to tell him a truth he may not necessarily want to hear, but one he _needs_ to hear. It's taken her a while to admit it to herself, she at least owes it to him. "I never really gave it much thought, what us being married actually meant. I mean, our relationship was great when we were sixteen and we had fun, we did. But, we're not sixteen anymore. And I just…I _can't_ pretend that nothing's changed, that we're the same kids who were having fun and just got caught up in the moment. I think it's about time that I learn to not keep making the same mistakes."

For a good long while, they are both silent. She sits on the swing, unmoving, gripping the chains until it hurts, watching the expressions on his face. "Do you...think we could have worked out back then?"

She shrugs, unsure but also somewhat doubtful. "I don't think so."

"I really wanted it to work. I mean, you're...it for me, Lore."

"I know you think that, but that's not entirely true. We just don't really know each other anymore, not the way we used to."

"Right."

"I really _am_ sorry, Chris."

"I know. Me too." Chris nods and she notices his jaw clench. She's never liked hurting him, but she reasons, it would only get worse if she continued to stay married to him, continued lying to herself. She's finally realized the lies aren't doing her, or anyone, any good.

* * *

When she arrives back home, all is still, the sounds of the clock ticking and Paul Anka's light snoring the only thing she hears. She checks on Rory, an old habit, who is asleep on her bed, amidst a pile of books. Lorelai smiles softly to herself before pulling the door to an almost close and moving to check the answering machine.

_"You have: 1 new message."_

"Lorelai. It's your mother."

"As if I don't already recognize your voice by now," Lorelai mutters under her breath. She never understands her mother's need to announce herself whenever she leaves a message on the machine. It's not as if Lorelai wouldn't recognize her voice. She waits for Emily's sharp intake of breath, followed by the telltale Sigh of Disapproval.

"We need to talk."

_"End of messages."_

She has a feeling that she already knows what Emily will want to discuss and to say that Lorelai wasn't looking forward to it would probably be the biggest understatement of the year.

Lorelai takes a deep breath, taking comfort in her ability to breathe easy, and heads upstairs to go to bed.

* * *

She spends the week when Chris moves out catching up on work at the Inn. With absolutely no desire to make the situation any more awkward than it has to be, she stays later to give him the time he needs to get the majority of his stuff. She doesn't mention that he be sure the enormous plasma TV screen is the first thing to go.

Saturday night, she and Rory are on the couch, a bowl of popcorn sitting untouched between them.

"... So, you talked?" Rory sums up hesitantly.

"We talked."

"About everything?"

Lorelai nods. "About everything. I wasn't being honest with him and it wasn't fair, letting him think that we were something we weren't."

"...How'd he take it?"

"Pretty well, considering. I mean, he hasn't called me any horrible insults, for which I have to say, though I was preparing myself for it, I am very grateful." For a quiet minute or two, Lorelai worries her bottom lip between her teeth while Rory slowly eats a handful of popcorn, the slightest wrinkle of concern making its presence known between her eyebrows, directly above the bridge of her nose.

"Hey," she starts, nudging Rory's foot to get her attention.

"Yeah?"

"I know this hasn't exactly been easy for you. And I know that I say this, but it's kind of hard to stick to... but you don't have to pick a side, between me and your dad. I know, that lately it hasn't really seemed like it, but _my_ relationship with your dad shouldn't affect _your_ relationship with your dad. And I know you're all grown up now, but I just wanted to make that clear. Okay?"

Rory lifts her head to look up at her mother, nodding, a small smile gracing her lips. "Okay."

* * *

By Thursday evening, the only thing left behind of Christopher's is a suitcase or two of clothes, and, placed carefully on the table next to them is her wedding ring. She hasn't really looked at it much since the fateful dinner at her parents' house a little over a week ago, and hasn't worn it since she took it off weeks before then. Lorelai stands in her living room, staring at the empty spot on her wall that was formerly home to Chris' plasma screen, contemplating, wondering if now is the best time to do what she's known she's needed to do long before she admitted to Christopher that she wanted a divorce.

Shaking her head, she grabs her keys and heads for the door before she can second-guess her decision.

She catches Luke a few seconds before he is about to lock up for the night. "Hey," she greets him quietly.

"Hey. I was just about to lock up but, if you want coffee, I could—"

In spite of the fact that her instinct and typical knee-jerk reaction would be to say yes, Lorelai quickly shakes her head. "No. I'm not here for coffee. I won't be here long I just, I needed to talk to you about some things."

"Things like what?" he asks slowly, carefully. His hands, she notices, are wringing the dishtowel in his hands of their own accord, it seems.

She gives him a pointed look, before taking a breath and surging forward. "I'm getting a divorce," she tells him. She has a hard time getting him to look at her, really look at her, and she isn't sure if seeing his eyes, seeing him, will make this easier or harder for her to do.

"I don't expect anything, I just wanted to tell you, before the gossip started and before people started making assumptions and jumping to conclusions about _why_. …I pushed him. Not like I did with you. That was different, just...stupid. Impulsive." She let out a dry laugh. "I guess I hadn't really changed all that much, huh?"

"Lorelai, you really don't have to—"

"No, let me finish. I really need to get this out. With him, I was just trying to prove a point. That _someone _could want me, even if I didn't really want him. ...With you it wasn't about proving anything really. It wasn't the same."

"Why?"

"Because I...love you. I'm in love with you. And I haven't been very good or successful at pretending otherwise." She pauses for a second, but when he doesn't respond, continues forward with what she's planned to say. "I thought you should know. I just... didn't want to you to walk around thinking that I did what I did because I didn't love you. I _know_ that I hurt you, and that you've hurt me, but the hurt never really... erased anything. I was hoping it would just make everything easier, but _God_, was I wrong. I just ...thought that you should know that," she finishes clumsily.

"I don't- I don't know what you want me to say here," Luke admits, shifting uncomfortably.

"Nothing. You don't have to say anything."

"But you just, thought I should know," he echoes flatly. Finally, he lifts his head and looks her in the eyes. She isn't sure what she sees, and wonders then if she made a mistake. _No, _she chastises herself. _He deserved to know. And you needed to say it.  
_

"Yeah," she reaffirms quietly.

"Okay."

"Okay." She hesitates before getting off the stool in front of the counter and moving slowly towards the door, keeping her eyes on his stoic and unreadable ones. "I'll see you tomorrow?" she asks hesitantly.

"Yeah. See you tomorrow."

With one last, uncertain nod, Lorelai leaves, deeply regretting her earlier decision of turning down Luke's offer of coffee.

She could really use some right about now.


	8. Follow Through

Lost, Without a Doubt

Summary: Rory, in the middle of an argument, helps Lorelai realize her mistake. If only she would admit it.

Setting: Post _"French Twist"_._  
_

Disclaimer: don't own any characters, some dialogue taken from "Santa's Secret Stuff" and a bit from "To Whom It May Concern" (though I have taken a few liberties with some lines).

**A/N**: and finally we've reached the last chapter. I honestly didn't expect this story to last this long, had it originally penned as a one-shot. (but, of course, I never seem able to stick to my intentions when writing these stories...) there may possibly be an epilogue in me somewhere, but i really don't want to force it so for now this is it, folks. thanks for reading and reviewing; enjoy.

* * *

Against her better judgment, Lorelai agrees to meet with her mother for lunch on Friday afternoon, for the "talk" Emily so ominously mentioned in the message she left on her daughter's answering machine.

She doesn't expect for Emily to be jumping for joy - in fact, she tells herself to mentally prepare for an intense, public tongue-lashing - since Lorelai knows from experience, that in spite of being well versed in _Miss Manner's Guide to Excruciatingly Correct Behavior_, Emily Gilmore is not above doling out a public tongue-lashing. Lorelai tells herself not to get her hopes up that her mother will be understanding or forgiving when Lorelai tells of her and Christopher's impending divorce. (But she does want to be the one to tell Emily before word spreads through Hartford's "in" society.) She needs to let her mother in on the truth: they gave a relationship a real try, this time out, but just because Christopher got her pregnant twenty two years ago doesn't mean that they are destined to be together for the rest of their lives. It simply means that Lorelai had a really shoddy understanding of what "birth control" actually meant.

Lorelai takes a deep breath in and opens the door to the restaurant, then kindly waits for the hostess to show her to where her mother is sitting.

"Hi mom."

"Hello, Lorelai."

It doesn't go unnoticed that on the table next to Emily's glass of ice water is a notebook. The same god-damned notebook that she's been carting around with her whenever discussions of the non-wedding party come up. _Damn, _Lorelai thinks as her stomach sinks.

"So, what are you in the mood for? I never really know what to order for 'brunch', anyway."

"I think I'll just get a burger and fries," Lorelai replies quickly, setting her own menu off to the side. "Listen, Mom, there's something that I really need to talk to you about."

"Oh?"

"Mom, Christopher and I are getting a divorce. I wanted to be the one to tell you, before- I just, I remember how hurt you were when I was engaged to Max and didn't tell you and I couldn't let you continue thinking that this party you were planning was going to happen. I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"What?"

"Why are you apologizing to me? I wasn't the one who was married to you."

"Well yeah, because that would be illegal and disturbing on so many levels," Lorelai mutters. She shakes her head, confused. "I don't understand. I thought you'd be a little more...upset about this."

"I've always thought that as Rory's parents, the right thing for the two of you to do would be to get married, to be a family. I still think that. But I am also very much aware of the fact that you and I are very different. But, in spite of what you may think, your happiness is important to me."

Lorelai is quiet for a while, then finally manages to stutter out in the midst of her surprise at Emily's calm response, "Th-Thanks, Mom."

"Thank you for telling me."

Emily primly turns to the notebook, which is now in her lap and slides it towards the middle of the table. "Now, _you_ can have the pleasure of calling the caterers, the guests, _and_ the venue and telling them that _your _wedding party has been canceled." She grins.

Lorelai smiles thinly. "Great."

* * *

It's been well over two weeks since her confession of sorts to Luke about how she felt - correction: _still_ feels - about him, and when another Tuesday fades away into Wednesday and then Thursday, Lorelai is seriously considering taking a page from her old book of habits and avoiding her daily voyage to Luke's for breakfast - and by extension, its proprietor- for a week, maybe two. The overwhelming lack of a response from Luke after her 'admission' makes her wary of seeing him again and risking embarrassing herself even further.

Or, worse, putting Luke in the very awkward position of telling her he doesn't feel the same way about her anymore.

But then, she chokes down a mug and a half of store-bought coffee (it just doesn't taste the same) and reconsiders. She's always been good at avoidance (and denial) when it comes down to her and vulnerability and relationships. She knows that she can't keep running anymore.

She is not the pregnant sixteen year old terrified of the future. She's thirty-eight years old with a fully grown daughter and a mountain of responsibilities. She needs to start acting like it. Ultimately, Lorelai decides that if she wants things to change, then _she_ would have to change. For real.

Determined, Lorelai dumps out her second mug of sub-par coffee into the sink and grabs her purse, then heads out the front door.

She walks into Luke's with no clear plan in mind, just the hope that, maybe, they can just try to move forward.

"Hi," she greets him nervously, but with a smile - albeit a tremulous and uncertain smile, but a it's smile nonetheless.

"Hey. You want coffee?"

"Yeah, coffee would be great."

He nods, seemingly completely nonchalant but his eyes are on hers, focused and unwavering. It's then that Lorelai notices, as he's leaning over to fill her mug - and it is _her_ mug - that he's wearing The Hat again, the blue baseball cap that she gave him all those Christmases ago, that she spotted in the hospital gift shop the night of her father's first heart attack and knew it would never look better on anyone else. At least, that was her personal opinion, though some would say she was probably somewhat biased. She watches as he turns to help another customer, fidgeting with the blue hat without thinking, it seems.

He glances up, then, and notices her staring. "What?"

"What?" she echoes.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"...Okay."

She smiles and takes another sip of her coffee.

* * *

"...So, I went into _Luke's_ this morning and he was wearing The Hat." Lorelai toys with the fringed edges of one of the sofa pillows sitting in her lap as she talks on the phone with Rory, a rerun of _The Rachel Zoe Project _playing on her TV screen in the background.

"Not The Hat," Rory feigns a gasp. She sounds like she does when she's trying to do five million things at once. Lorelai imagines her studying for a test, editing an article for the Yale Daily News, and doing research for some paper. "...Wait a minute, what hat?"

"The one I gave him - years ago, for Christmas."

"Oh yeah, the blue hat. Good Ol' Blue," Rory sighs wistfully. "So, what, do you think that means something?"

"I don't know. It has to, right? I mean, he hasn't worn The Hat since we broke up, which is totally understandable but it also can't just be a completely random decision, him wearing The Hat again."

"Okay, can you stop saying "The Hat" as if it's some mythical creature from _Lord of the Rings_ that has the power to alter the future of all of mankind?"

"Fine. But you agree with me, right?"

"Yes. I do. Since you gave it to him and obviously wearing it was important, and taking it off was equally important, then yes, I do think that Luke putting his hat back on is meaningful. It's... good_._"

"Good how?"

"Well, you know, he's past his pain, you're talking again, you've cleared the air, you're coming into the diner again, and, you know, he's wearing your hat."

"Okay, so what do I do? I should...reciprocate in some way, right?"

"Reciprocate?"

"Well, yeah, you know he's doing something friendly. I should probably do something friendly back - wear my own hat, as it were."

"Did he give you a hat?"

"No, that's the problem. But we've been kind of making progress lately. And, you know, I don't want to leave his hat gesture unacknowledged."

"Right."

"So, what do should I do?"

"...Buy him a new spatula?"

Lorelai frowns, in spite of the fact that her daughter can't see it. "You're not helping."

"You've already told him how you feel. This is Luke, Mom. You, of all people, should know that all he needs is time. I think you can afford to give him that."

"You're right. Again."

On the other end of the phone, Rory grins. "Aren't I always?"

* * *

She'd kept the earrings. Her purging of all things reminiscent of Luke was a conscious decision but, on the flip side, so was Lorelai's decision to keep the earrings he'd given her nearly three years ago, after their first kiss, when he'd come home from helping out Liz and TJ in Vermont.

Honestly she wasn't even sure he'd notice. She wasn't sure if wearing the earrings can be counted as 'reciprocation', really. But Lorelai know she is definitely glad she didn't put them in a box in permanent storage along with so many of her other favorite things she discarded in a hasty decision brought on by heartache.

He's wiping down the counter when she walks into the diner and actually seems genuinely happy to see her. "Hey. Coffee?"

"Sure."

"Oh, okay. Good. Are you hungry or anything?" He asks quickly, his hands wringing the cloth between his hands.

Lorelai raises an eyebrow, slightly confused by Luke's anxious demeanor. "Uh, yeah, a little. I mean, I guess I could use some pancakes or-"

"Pancakes it is."

He gives her pancakes and she smiles her thanks, then frowns when she looks down and realizes they're chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream on top. A perfectly delicious, non-healthy breakfast, without the minute long rant about heart attacks, cholesterol levels, and living past the age of sixty on the side. It's a bit disconcerting to say the least.

"Luke?"

"Yeah? You need anything else?"

"What is this?"

"It's chocolate chip pancakes." His faces colors slightly, though Lorelai convinces herself she's imagining it. "Do you not like those anymore?"

"Of course I do, it's just that - You're giving me chocolate chip pancakes and coffee with no lecture and absolutely no mention of what it'll do to my arteries?"

Finally, he sighs, and halts his seemingly nervous - why the hell does he seem so nervous, anyway?- movements. "Can we talk? Upstairs? It'll be quick, I promise."

"Uh, okay. Sure. Upstairs."

She walks upstairs to his apartment, overhearing Luke telling Cesar to take over for a few minutes before disappearing behind the curtain.

"I need a favor."

"A favor? What kind of favor?" Lorelai bites down on her lower lip, thinks that if this were two, maybe three years ago this would be the perfect moment for an inappropriate joke. But, she knows they haven't exactly gotten back to that point of feeling as comfortable around each other as they used to.

"I..." He stops, takes a breath and starts over again. "Anna wants to move to New Mexico. With April."

"What? New Mexico? _Why?_"

"Well Anna's mother just had major surgery, and she's not doing so well. And Anna wants to be near her, which I get. It's just, you know, I'd like to see April on some weekends and vacations. Or, you know, ever."

Lorelai nods, understanding. She can't even imagine how she would feel if she had to do battle in court over how much time she was "allowed" to spend with Rory. "Well, yeah, of course."

"But Anna says no," Luke continues, his eyes betraying his impatience with the situation. "In fact, right now, she's not even letting me see April at all, so I have to fight for custody, and I'm going to court."

"Wow."

"Yeah, it's this whole big thing. ...I got to get a lawyer and wear a tie. It's not fun."

"I do remember your disdain for ties."

They share a small smile.

"But, uh, it's good that you're doing it, though."

"Well, I can't not do it," he insists, "you know I can't not do it."

"Right."

"So, anyway, um, the court date is coming up. And I need a character reference. And Liz wrote one, but my lawyer read it over, and he said it was sweet, but it was filled with all these weird childhood anecdotes that I probably don't want to share with anyone, much less a court of law. And I need another one, and I just don't know who to go to. And I know it's an awful lot to ask. And if it's too weird or awkward or whatever…"

"Yes."

Luke continues talking as if he didn't hear her and Lorelai smothers a small smile. "I mean, I totally understand if you can't-"

"Yes," she repeats, louder this time.

"But if you could, just - What?"

Lorelai nods insistingly. "Yes, I'll do it."

"Yeah? You're sure?"

"Yes, of course, Luke."

"Okay. All right, well, this is my lawyer's address, and you can just mail the letter directly to him."

"Okay." Lorelai nods.

"Yeah, and, look, if you don't mind, if you could do it as soon as possible... the court date's right around the corner."

Lorelai nods again. "Definitely."

"Thanks. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Yeah. Um, okay, well...I'll just... thanks."

"Sure. I'll get right on it."

Luke looks like he wants to say something else, but then he looks away instead, nodding succinctly. "All right. Thanks. Okay."

* * *

Writing Luke's recommendation letter turns out to be, surprisingly, easier than Lorelai thought it would be.

She finishes writing it in about two hours or so, after deciding that what the judge would need to hear most is honesty. And honestly, despite everything that has happened between them, Lorelai thinks that April is pretty lucky to have Luke for a father.

Lorelai neatly folds the letter and takes a deep breath before enclosing it in an envelope. She really hope this helps.

* * *

Luke shifts uncomfortably in his seat and adjusts his tie, not because it's crooked, but because his hands need to do _something_, in order to prevent him from having yet another "outburst". God, he hates that word.

Anna's lawyer, Barbara Campbell, is a barracuda. Really, Luke shouldn't have expected anything less.

"...as we all know, your honor, custody cases must center on what's in the best interest of the child," Barbara continues snidely.

"And as we all know, _"best interest"_ is a subjective term," Jim McNally, his lawyer, interjects.

"For Mr. Danes to have as much access to April as he's seeking would certainly not be in her best interest."

"To deny the child access to her father would be psychologically damaging," Jim insists.

Barbara practically scoffs outright. "Why? The child has only seen Mr. Danes on spur erratic occasions whenever he found time in his schedule to allow her to visit."

"He made himself available to her as often as she liked."

"Truth be told, during the past year, April has spent more cumulative hours with the man who drives her school bus than with Luke Danes. Why don't we ask my client to allow the bus driver shared custody of the child?"

"Bit of a stretch there, Miss Campbell," the Judge chastises.

"My point, your honor, is that April's connection to Mr. Danes is superficial at best. To her, he's a man who works in a diner who only recently revealed himself to be her father."

Luke has to interrupt at that, despite how often he's already been told to keep his mouth shut. But honestly, Jim isn't doing too great of a job of painting an _accurate _picture of the circumstances. "_Owns_. I own the diner. I don't just work there, and _April _came to _me_."

"Yeah, without my knowing it," Anna retorts.

"Exactly and you had no intention of letting me know I even have a daughter."

The Judge interrupts before Anna can reply. "Excuse me. But I suggest you let your attorneys speak for you."

"I apologize, your honor."

"Yeah. Sorry," Luke apologizes and he can't bring himself to care that he clearly sounds insincere.

"All right, now, Miss Nardini, what kind of provisions have you made for your daughter in New Mexico - house, schools?"

"Well I've already rented a house in a nice area, um, I've checked out the immediate neighborhood, and there are a lot of kids there that are April's age."

"Hmm."

"And," Anna continues, "I have enrolled her in a local school that is very highly recommended, um, put her up for swim team."

"Your honor, we don't contest that Miss Nardini will make April's transition to the new living situation as seamless as possible. We contest the part where she cuts the child off from her father."

"A father she barely knows, who does not have - let's face it - the most sterling personal history," the barracuda adds and that's it, no amount of tie adjusting is going to let Luke allow that one to just roll off his shoulders.

"Okay. Look. I know what you're talking about, and, yeah, I've made a few mistakes."

"Luke, wait, hang on-"

"No. It's true," Luke carries on, ignoring Jim completely. "I was married before, and it only lasted a few months, but it ended amicably...pretty much."

"Mr. Danes, I'm going to need you to refrain from-"

"And I may live above a diner, and some people may see me as a hermit-"

"Luke."

"And I'm the first person to admit that, you know, all of my relationships haven't exactly been long-term-"

"Mr. McNally. Please instruct your client-"

"But _this_ is different. We are talking about my daughter, who I didn't even know I _had_ for the first twelve years of her life. And now that I know her, and I know that I'm her dad, I just want to be with her and be her dad 'cause I know I will be a good dad."

"Mr. Danes, be quiet," the Judge orders firmly, her eyes narrowed into a glare.

"I'm sorry, your honor. This won't happen again."

Luke nods and holds his hands out in front of him, signaling that he's finished with his rant.

Judge sighs, before opening up yet another file from a seemingly endless pile of papers. She perches a pair of old fashioned glasses on the edge of her nose and clears her throat. "Alright, now that I've had the opportunity to hear from both sides in this case, I'm going to read some personal references into the court record. The first letter is written on behalf of Mr. Danes by a Miss Lorelai Gilmore. This is dated January 9, 2007:

_"To Whom It May Concern,_

_In the nearly 10 years that I have known Luke Danes, I have come to know him as an honest and decent man. He is also one of the most kind and caring persons I have ever met._

_I'm a single mother, and I raised my daughter by myself, but once Luke Danes became my friend in this town, I never really felt alone. Luke and I have had our ups and downs over the years, but through it all, his relationship with my daughter, Rory, has never changed. He's always been there for her no matter what. He was there to celebrate her birthdays. He was there cheering her on at her high school graduation. Luke has been a sort of father figure in my daughter's life. With his own daughter, Luke wasn't given the opportunity to be there for her first twelve years, but he should be given that opportunity now. Once Luke Danes is in your life, he is in your life forever. I know from personal experience what an amazing gift that is, and not to allow him access to his daughter would be to seriously deprive her of all this man has to offer, and he offers so much. Thank you for your time._

_Sincerely,_

_Lorelai Gilmore."_

Luke finally relaxes his grip on his tie._  
_

* * *

The sound of the phone ringing wakes her up early. She isn't sure how early, but she knows her eyes are definitely refusing to open as her hand reaches for the phone. "Hello?"

"Hey, I didn't wake you, did I?" It's Luke.

Lorelai sits up and forces her eyes open as she quickly scans the clock on her nightstand. Seven A.M. _Ugh._ "Uh, no, hi. No, I'm up."

"I just had to tell you. I won."

Lorelai mumbles, slightly confused as to what the hell he's talking about, "...You won?"

"Yeah. It's incredible. I thought I was screwed. I mean, her lawyer dug up every last bit of dirt she could find on me but, I won."

His custody hearing, of course. "Oh. Oh, yeah. Luke, that's great."

"Yeah, the judge waited until this morning to give us her decision. Oh, man, was that the longest night of my life. But I just got off with my lawyer. I get shared custody."

"Oh, wow. Well, congratulations."

"Yeah, I get to see April at least one weekend a month, every other major holiday, half the summer. We're gonna work it all out. It's so great."

"So great."

"Yeah, I guess the judge just took everything into consideration and realized how much I wanted to be in April's life. And, of course, your letter was a big help."

"Well, I just wanted to help you, and help April."

"Well, you did, and I'm really _really _grateful. Anyway, uh, sorry to call so early. Thanks again."

"Congratulations, Luke."

"Thank you, Lorelai. I mean it."

Lorelai smiles slightly. "Yeah, I know you do."

* * *

She can't really get to sleep It is later in the day and she's sitting in the living room, going over paperwork for the Dragonfly when Lorelai hears a knock at the door.

She goes to answer it, curiosity piquing, and opens the door to find Luke on her front porch.

"Hey," she greets him cheerfully.

"Hey."

"What's up?"

"I was in the neighborhood."

"Really?"

"Well, okay, no. Not really."

Lorelai bites down on her bottom lip, smothering a smile before raising an eyebrow.

"I just came by because I remember how you can never really get back to sleep once someone wakes you up, and since I'm the one who woke you up-" He's rambling and by this point Lorelai doesn't even bother to hide her amusement at this fact. "I brought food to make up for it," he finishes, handing over the bag in his arms.

"Thanks," she opens the paper bag, perusing its contents, but she can sense that there is something else that Luke wants to add.

"I was wondering if you have any plans this weekend?"

Her smile widens. "Actually, no. No, I don't."

He smiles back. "Saturday good for you?"

"Saturday's great." He turns to leave. "Hey, Luke?"

"Yeah?"

"Nice hat."

"...Nice earrings."


End file.
